


Dear Evan Hansen Drabbles

by neglectedrainbow



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, Love them, M/M, alana/zoe are here my loves, and i'm probably gonna feature every pairing, and i'm working on more at the moment, evan is my child, everyoneeeee is here!!!, happiness, i've written too much angst for these boys so this is happy, so it's all good, so these are drabbles from prompts i've gotten on tumblr, some happy gays here, the deh girls/women are the best, this is gonna get bigger and bigger, tree-lover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-07 23:44:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 7,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10372575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neglectedrainbow/pseuds/neglectedrainbow
Summary: Drabbles based on the characters and events of the musicalDear Evan Hansen.





	1. "I Feel Like I Can't Breathe"

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my DEH Drabbles, and I hope you enjoy! Find me on Tumblr at [@neglectedrainbow](http://neglectedrainbow.tumblr.com/) and submit prompts of your own!

They’re kissing on Evan’s bed, soft lips and warmth, bodies pressed together. Evan pulls back slowly, his forehead resting against Jared’s as they both catch their breath in synchronization. Jared’s hand rests on the base of Evan’s head, fingertips tracing over the edge of his hairline.

“I feel like I can’t breathe,” Evan whispers against his boyfriend’s lips, a quiet murmur.

Jared stalls, trying to move up onto his elbows, his brow furrowed, “Are you okay? Do you-”

“No, no,” Evan scrambles to clarify, pressing a placating hand on Jared’s chest. “It’s a good kind of-of breathless. You-”

“I swear to God, if you say I take your breath away, I’m gonna get up and walk out of this room right now.”

Evan inhales, chuckling, and presses his nose against Jared’s. He feels good, he feels safe. Jared laughs too, easing into the bed for a moment, before moving up to kiss his boyfriend again. Pressing into the kiss, Evan begins to move against Jared, rhythmically.

The older nips at Evan’s bottom lip lightly, pulling away, and presses a hand into Evan’s chest. “If you keep doing that,” Jared whispers into the curve of Evan’s ear, “this will go in a completely different direction, and I think your mom is gonna be home soon.”

Evan rolls off of Jared and onto his side, pressing his face into the crook of Jared’s neck, trying to hide the sudden flush of blood to his cheeks. “Right.”

Chuckling, Jared turns his head, “I guess you got your breath back, then?”

Tracing his fingers up Jared’s arm, Evan shakes his head slowly, glancing up to meet the other’s eyes. “We’ll see.”

They both smile and relax into each other’s warmth.


	2. "How Could You Forget Your Son's Birthday?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "How could you forget your son's birthday?" No characters specified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Here's my second drabble, and a few more will be up soon! I hope you enjoy!

Connor has been staring at the table for what feels like endless hours. He runs the tip of his black-painted fingernail back and forth across the tablecloth, trying to find a repetitive rhythm, trying to find something soothing, something to distract his mind. Quickly, though, he gets bored, turning to zip and unzip his sweatshirt. Up and down, up and down, up and down.

He catches his mother’s eyes on the movement and halts abruptly. She smiles at him weakly, still trying to decrease the tension quickly filling the room. Quietly, she clears her throat. “So, Connor, how has school been, so far?”

“Fine,” he murmurs, his voice rough from underuse.

“Zoe?” Cynthia prompts, obviously desperate for some sort of participation.

But his sister just shrugs, too, limply, and glances at the front door again. She huffs, her eyes twitching to Connor for a moment.

Cynthia clenches her jaw, grabbing her wine glass and swirling the liquid around and around.

Everyone stares at the front door for a few moments.

“How about we just…just…” Connor’s mom slowly trails off, her mouth tight.

“I have homework to do, so,” Connor pushes his chair back slowly. He pauses for a moment, his eyes flickering over to his mother. “It’s fine, mom. Really.”

Cynthia shakes her head slowly, her nostrils flaring. Before either of them can speak, though, there’s the sudden sound of a car pulling into the driveway. Cynthia springs to her feet while both of her children remain seated. She sends them both a meek smile before darting out of the room.

Connor stands, “I’ll just…” He’s too tired to be angry, too tired to be anything but disappointed. He doesn’t want a fight, not today. He’s finally eighteen, finally old enough to be his own parent, his own guardian. He tries to tell himself that it doesn’t matter what happens, that at least he finally has some sense of control.

As he makes his way up the stairs, he can make out voices below. His dad’s low voice, “The interstate was completely jammed, so-”

Then, his mom’s hushed hiss, interrupting, “How could you forget your son’s birthday!”

There’s silence for a few moment, before a deep exhale. “Oh, God. I completely-I got so tied up at work, I didn’t-”

“You forgot.”

“I didn’t-I’m sorry, honey, it’s just-”

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to,” Cynthia retorts, her voice raising slightly.

Then, there’s silence, probably an exchange of expressions, before Connor can hear footsteps approaching the stairwell. He quickly bolts up the rest of the stairs, darting into his room. He closes the door and locks it, turning off all the lights. He doesn’t want to deal with some half-assed apology, not this time. He slowly lays down in bed, pressing his hands over his ears as yet another argument begins to start outside his door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and feel free to submit more prompts!


	3. Flower Shop/Tattoo Artist AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flower Shop/Tattoo Artist AU. Zoe/Alana, requested by anonymous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love the deh girls so much and will write any and all types of fic for them. i like dropping hints that i love the deh girls. 
> 
> i love the deh girls.

Alana is finishing up an order when the tinkling bells of another customer ring overhead. She glances up, her entire body halting as she catches sight of the new customer. It’s a girl, around her age, perhaps a little bit younger, with long, wavy locks of light brown hair. She’s wearing light blue jeans, and her entire upper body is covered in colorful, vibrant, detailed tattoos.

Alana stares for perhaps a bit too long (definitely much too long) before catching herself. She returns to her work, hastily tying up the last bundle of flowers--a rather unusual bouquet of sunflowers, requested by a haphazard-looking women yesterday evening--and setting them aside. 

The stranger approaches her countertop. She’s wearing a soft black shirt, one that hangs off her shoulders just slightly, revealing columns and swirls and rows of patterns, colors, designs. Alana stares again. There’s a large tattoo of an indigo flower running up her forearm, the vibrant purple color capturing her attention.

Surrounding the indigo are swarths of other tattoos, similar in style and technique, of seemingly everything imaginable. A quote runs up the side of her arm, in a small, cursive script, and a few numbers are scrawled across her wrist. Each tattoo is unique, different, full of color and personality, something that, one anyone else, would seem haphazard or random, but, on her, seems like a quilt, a quilt of life. Alana blinks a few more times, wondering when she became so existential.

The stranger clears her throat. Alana jumps violently, blinking rapidly, “Um, hi!”

“Hello,” the other replies slowly, but she’s smiling, her eyes bright.

“How may I help you today?” Alana tries to focus on what she is saying, rather than this new, beautiful woman. My Lord, she thinks wearily, I really am so gay.

The woman chuckles slightly, “I have a friend who’s graduating from college this weekend, and I wanted to get him something.”

“A friend?” Alana asks, without thinking.

The tattooed girl’s eyes crinkle knowingly. “Yeah. But, just a friend.”

“Right.” Alana’s cheeks begin heating up. “So. Um. Well, roses are very common in celebratory situations, but I guess it really depends on the person? Do you know what he likes?”

The other shrugs, “He likes the color blue?”

“Um...well, we don’t normally use blue flowers, because they tend to… People say that they can look artificial in bouquets and such, but, um… Oh!” Alana springs to action, rushing around her work space to grab a few example flowers. “We could do a mix? Some Asiatic lilies, white roses, white carnations, cream roses, and a few blue statices. Oh, and of course some greens, to even things out, and…” She shows Zoe the small combination of flowers, a beautiful array of colors, calming and airy.

The girl smiles, fully, and Alana’s heart may melt just a little, not that she’ll admit it. “Perfect,” she whispers.

Alana smiles back, fidgeting with her glasses a little. “Great, I’ll just… What’s your name?” She pauses. “For, um, for ordering purposes, you know, um?”

“It’s Zoe. Zoe Murphy.”

“Oh, great, I’m-I’m Alana...Beck.”

“Nice to meet you, Alana Beck,” Zoe says, and her voice flows like summer wind.

Alana nods, not wanting to end the moment of serene calm that brushes over them both as they meet eyes. “You too.” Alana clears her throat, “Do you work in the area, Zoe?”

“Yeah, actually. I’m a tattoo artist down on Lexington.” Zoe brushes a hand through her hair. “So, I’ll come pick up the full bouquet tomorrow, yeah?”

And they’re both smiling. “Perfect.” Alana wonders how it got so warm in this shop.

“And, if I were to say, also, I don’t know, ask you out, for non-order-related purposes… Would that be okay?”

Alana’s head shoots up, as she blinks rapidly, trying to stop her heart from beating so rapidly. “That would-that would be more than okay, I-yes. Yes.” She nods, and then they’re both smiling again, even wider this time.

“I have an appointment in just a moment, so I gotta go, but I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Alana nods again, and there’s the emerging feeling of butterflies in her stomach. “Yes, yeah, I’ll-I’ll see you tomorrow.” Zoe walks out of the store with the promise of returning at 4 the next afternoon to pick up her flowers...and her new date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! i love every single comment ever, and i just love you all! thank you!


	4. Bulletproof

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm bulletproof...but, please, don't shoot me." Zoe and Connor. Platonic, of course.

“Where the hell did you put my black nail polish?” She pounds on the door of Connor’s room. “I don’t understand why you just don’t buy your own damn nail polish!” She shouts, banging harder. Her words are probably pointless, as Connor’s probably passed out on his bed right now from smoking too much.

Normally she doesn’t care, because she very rarely uses any nail polish to begin with. But one of her friends wants to wear it for some roundabout, absurd method of pissing off her parents, so Zoe was tasked with going out and finding it. She bangs on the door again, before pressing her ear against the wood. She hears padded footsteps with just enough time to pull back before the door swings open. “What.”

She barges into Connor’s room, sniffing disdainfully as the smell of weed fills her nostrils. “I need the black nail polish.”

Connor slinks past her, rummaging around in his bedside cabinet while Zoe surveys the room. In comparison to previous visits, she’ll admit that it’s much less of a mess than previously. “Here,” Connor hands her the small bottle before laying back down on the bed, rubbing his eyes slowly.

“You know, Mom’s gonna come in here and smell all this and she’s gonna-”

“I know,” Connor interrupts, running a single hand through his long mass of curls. “I know. She’s gonna be disappointed, like always, and I’m gonna be the family failure again, but I just really, really don’t care, Zo.” The childhood nickname reemerges.

Zoe shakes her head, “You could just stop smoking so much, maybe.”

“Look.” Connor sits up with what seems like an immense amount of effort. “I’m bulletproof...but please, don’t shoot me.”

Blinking, Zoe protests, “What does that even-”

“It _means_ ,” Connor huffs, “that I _know_ I’m a disappointment, and I know I’m gonna keep on being one, I know that, I do, and I really do not fucking care. I’d just prefer if you’d stop reprimanding me for things that, one, Dad’s gonna fucking get on my case about in two hours anyway and, two, that I don’t wanna deal with. Okay?”

“Fine,” Zoe huffs. “I won’t, then.”

“Great.”

“Perfect,” Zoe grits out, before deflating. “Connor-”

“Don’t.”

“Connor, listen, for just a second. Just…” she holds up the black bottle, “thanks.”

Her brother nods slowly, his eyes weary, as she walks out of his room. “Thank you, too,” he whispers in reply, too quietly for her to hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoyed! my inbox is open for more submissions, and i'd love to hear all of your opinions, thoughts, and ideas for other drabbles. thank you for reading! all the love.


	5. This is My Bed, Too!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You can't banish me! This is my bed, too!" Jared/Evan. Requested by @sterw on Tumblr!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love these boys and want them to be happy.

Evan is sprawled out across Jared’s bed, his feet tangled up in various blankets. His eyes swivel over to the clock, which reads past midnight. Evan huffs, shielding his eyes from the blaring brightness of Jared’s overhead light. He tries to block out the noise of Jared laughing as he scrolls through yet another meme page on Tumblr.

“Jared…” he groans, his brain dull from the lack of sleep. He couldn’t sleep the night before, because he had a calculus test this morning and panicked and probably failed but he’s trying not to think about it and so he went out with Jared, but now it’s very late and Evan’s eyes won’t stop drooping.

“What…” Jared replies, drawing the word out jokingly.

Evan rolls over, pushing his head into Jared’s side. “Can you turn off the lights, please?”

Jared snorts and sends him a look. “It’s literally 12:30. Who even are you?”

“I’m tired…”

A snicker flicks across Jared’s face, and Evan knows what’s coming before the other even opens his mouth. “Hello, Tired. I’m Jared.”

“I swear…” Evan moves to sit up slowly, placing his hand over Jared’s phone and nuzzling his nose into the crook of Jared’s neck. “Lay down with me. Sleep.”

The older boy pauses for a moment, tilting his body towards Evan. He nudges Evan up until they’re face-to-face, before languidly pressing their lips together in relaxed, sensual movements. Evan presses a hand into Jared’s jaw, deepening the movement. Slowly, he pulls away, whispering, “Come on, lay down.”

Jared meets his eyes for a moment, and a tender moment passes between them before Jared grabs his phone again. “I’m wide awake, though! And-oh my God, Evan, look!” He shows the other yet another meme, and, sure, Evan enjoyed them the first fifty times, but now? Not so much.

“Jared…” He runs fingertips up his boyfriend’s leg, curling around his inner thigh, but Jared snatches his hand and pushes it away.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

Evan’s face quickly grows hot as a blush spreads across his cheeks. He flops back down onto the bed, covering his face with his hands while his boyfriend very obviously tries not to laugh.

“Fine, then.” Evan mumbles through his fingers. “If you won’t go to sleep, then I’m banishing you.”

Jared immediately pulls a face, “You’re what?”

“Banishing you.” He tries to say it with as much conviction as possible, but he can’t really bring himself to be anything but amused.

Straightening up, thoroughly affronted, Jared protests, “You can’t banish me! This is my bed!”

“Well,” Evan responds, trying not to giggle too much at Jared’s ridiculously offended expression. “I can and I will.”

His boyfriend grumbles and mumbles for a few moments, rolling over to place his phone on the ground with a huff. He continues mumbling and grumbling as he collapses down beside the younger boy, but Evan can see the smile threatening his lips, too, a fondness in his eyes that Evan knows matches the fondness in his own. He turns to Evan, “You know I’m gonna spam you with memes tomorrow, then.”

Evan rests his head on Jared’s shoulder, nodding slowly, “I know.”

Jared presses a kiss into Evan’s head, settling into the bed until they both nod off to sleep in each other’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used "this is my bed" rather than "this is my bed, too," i know, but hopefully it worked anyway! thank you so much for reading and my inbox is still open if you wanna find me and submit anything!


	6. Happy Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The substitute legit doesn’t care about this class so we’re doing increasingly worse and weirder things to see if he calls us out. And now you’re basically straddling me while a group of kids is singing happy birthday and honestly this is the most romantic thing to ever happen to me.” AU with Jared/Connor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> submitted by @slaygayponyboy on Tumblr!! i've never written for this pairing before, but here it goes!

Connor is bored. No, not bored, actually. He is beyond bored; he has ascended into another dimension of boredom. Nothing left remains. He tries everything, tries throwing balls of paper across the room (until Evan scolds him severely and continuously about wasting the material of poor, precious trees), until, finally, he gives up. Jared pretends to pass out at least seven times, yet their substitute teacher has not yet responded to a thing. Nothing. Not a glance, not a word, not even an eyeroll.

The substitute--who hasn’t even bothered to tell them all his name--just sits there, staring into a book, completely oblivious to the world around him. It is amazing, actually.

When Evan scampers into a corner to finish his Environmental Geoscience homework, he leaves Connor and Jared to their own devices, perhaps one of the worst judgement mistakes he’s ever made (apart from the truly horrendous brand of khaki pants he’s been sporting for the past two months).

Quickly, Jared and Connor descend into a realm of chaos. It’s a Vo-Tech class, some ridiculously easy course they all are forced to take in order to graduate, and almost nobody else showed up. Other than himself, Connor, and Evan, only three other students remain. 

There’s Alana, of course, who’d never miss a day of class in her life, even if it is one as lame as this, along with Zoe, who Connor actually _isn’t_ fighting with at the moment (a truly miraculous feat, in his opinion), and one other kid, some nameless boy who’s currently fast asleep across two desks. Ah, Connor thinks, the joys of American public school…

While Jared is off wondering about the new Android phone that should be released any moment, Connor is concocting a scheme. Normally, he isn’t the type to cause trouble in any class--he prefers to lay low, only reacting if someone else provokes him, a defensive being. Here, though? Here, he feels comfortable, amazingly, surrounded by people who won’t judge him, won’t question his every move, and will, in fact, support and encourage him.

He leans over to Jared, nudging his shoulder slightly. “You think the sub’d notice if we blasted some music?” Immediately, Jared is digging around in his backpack, searching for an iPod, and, soon enough, a dance party is in session. No reaction from the substitute, though, yet again.

Jared shrugs slowly, feeling a bit defeated. “You think the sub’d notice if we started singing?”

Now that’s an idea. “Hey, Evan!” Connor barks.

Slowly, the third boy’s head swivels over to them. “Yeah…” he replies, cautiously.

“What’s a good song?”

“Um…” Evan glances around the room, desperately begging with his eyes for any advice.

“Oh!” Alana shouts, shooting forward in her seat. “Happy Birthday!”

“A classic,” Jared agrees.

Connor nods, “Perfect! Take us away, Alana!”

With that, a beautiful five-part harmony erupts from their voices. Tony Award-deserving voices, in fact, Connor thinks.

“Wait!” Jared interrupts them all. “This isn’t-this doesn’t have enough…” He ponders for a moment, “Ah-ha! This isn’t sexy enough. We need to make it sexier to truly make an impact.” Both Evan and Alana protest while Connor and Zoe clap and hoot. Even one eye of the sleeping kid peers over in interest.

“Now!” Jared puts his hands on his hips. “Prepare yourself...for the best performance of ‘Happy Birthday’ the world has ever been blessed with. Marilyn Monroe, move aside!”

He points a finger at Connor and begins to sing, deepening his voice into a low, sultry timber. “I need background vocals!” Zoe, Alana, and Evan all begin to hum little Oh’s and Ah’s and La’s as Jared struts over to him. Connor casts a momentary glance at the sub, who has yet to respond to any of this, before sitting back in his chair.

And then Jared’s straddling him, belting out the final verse of “Happy Birthday” and everyone’s smiling and laughing and, okay, so maybe Connor’s a little bit (a lot) in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all the love! feel free to comment below, i cherish them all!


	7. Lunch Table

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I have no one to sit with at lunch so I sat at your table and now your friends are not-so subtly kicking you under the table. Now they’re very loudly whispering that your crush has shown up and oh my god. I have never seen you this red by the way.” AU with Jared/Evan by @neglectedrainbow. Submitted by anonymous.

Evan stands, completely petrified, in front of the library, staring at a red piece of paper taped to the door. “LIBRARY CLOSED DURING PERIODS 5 AND 6” it reads, in large, borderline aggressive letters. He continues staring at the note, trying to will himself not to panic-or-or run or cry or-

Evan doesn’t normally go to the cafeteria; he much prefers to huddle into a corner of the library and secretly eat his lunch in serenity. The lunch room is too much, full of yelling voices and spilled food and-and it’s just too much, it’s always been too much, and now where is he supposed to go? He can’t go to the writing lab, because it’s already full, and-and, he could just eat his food in the bathroom, bent in a stall. He almost accepts that level of defeat until a hand claps down on his shoulder. “Evan?”

He flinches backwards, and Jared raises both of his hands in a symbol of peace, his expression flashing in regret. “Sorry, sorry, I know better than to jump up on you like that.”

When Evan doesn’t respond, too busy trying to calm his heartrate down to an acceptable level, Jared continues, “What’re you doing, though?”

“Oh,” Evan begins to pull at one of the straps of his backpack. “Um… Just… Noticing that-that the library’s closed.”

“Huh,” Jared looks at the sign, squinting as he reads it. “What class are you in now? Maybe the teacher mixed up where you’re meeting?”

“No, no, um…” Earlier this year, Evan had convinced Jared that he had European History this period, trying desperately to avoid either offending Jared by not sitting with him at lunch or appearing to be an even bigger mess by admitting to being unable to sit in the lunchroom for 45 minutes. “I have…” He bites his tongue, looking into Jared’s eyes for a moment, and they’re too trusting; he can’t lie. “Lunch, actually.”

“Really? How come-” Jared’s face falls for a moment, his eyebrows pulling in as he surveys his friend. “Who do you sit with?” There’s a hit of-of sadness, or maybe anger, in his voice.

“I don’t really-I do homework in the library, normally, so-I don’t really, um, sit with anyone?”

“Oh,” Jared’s looking at him again, intensely, and Evan can feel his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “Well, if you don’t have anywhere else to go, you can come sit with me?” To any casual listener, that question would sound off-handed, like a second thought, but Evan knows Jared, knows how this isn’t some flippant remark.

“Um, I can-I can try? But if it-”

Jared nods, “If it gets too loud or whatever, we can leave.” He says “we,” not “you,” which makes Evan’s chest grow tight in a way he can’t quite explain.

“Sure, sure, that’s-that’s fine.”

And off they go, their strides evening out quickly, calmly. The roaring noise from the cafeteria grows louder and louder as they approach, and Evan takes a few deep, relaxing breaths.

The table seems engrossed in a conversation when they arrive, full of hand gestures and laughing and tossing chips at each other, until Alana sees them both. Immediately, her face lights up, and she tugs on Zoe’s arm, not-so-surreptitiously nodding towards Evan. Soon enough, the enter table is desperately trying not to stare at them all at the same time and simultaneously failing miserably.

Jared leads him over, pulling out a chair next to him, and motioning for Evan to sit. Slowly, sending another glance around the table, he complies. “Hey, Jared…” Zoe starts, leaning forward and waggling her eyebrows up and down. “And _Evan._ ” She drags out the last vowel dramatically, grinning at Jared.

“Hey Evan,” the rest of the table choruses.

He swallows drily. “Hey.”

Immediately, Alana begins hurriedly whispering in Zoe’s ear, just as two other kids (both of whom Evan vaguely recognizes from Jared’s birthday “get-together”) do the same. Jared begins to have a silent conversation with Zoe, comprised solely of exaggerated facial expressions and eye movement. 

The entire table keeps glancing at Evan, who very quickly becomes more and more uncomfortable.

“So! Evan!” Alana begins, placing her elbows neatly on the tabletop. “How have you been? Jared’s told us all _so much_!”

“Um...nothing big, really, just… School and stuff.”

“Oh yeah!” Alana smiles like that’s the most fascinating thing she ever heard, as Jared tries to kick her underneath the table. “What about your dating life?”

“Oh come _on_!” Jared huffs, but he’s quickly silenced by Zoe.

“Let him speak, J! Gosh!”

Evan looks between the three of them, trying not to laugh. “I’m not dating anyone, so-”

“Really!” Alana exclaims, pursing her lips at Jared. “Well, it seems as though Zoe and I know just who you’d do fantastically with!”

Jared’s face is roughly the color of a tomato as he sputters various protests. Evan turns to his friend, leaning over, pushing away the giggle threatening at his throat, “Are you okay?”

“I’m-I’m just suffering greatly, but it’s-it’s fine,” Jared chokes, pressing a thumb into his forehead and waving vaguely. “It’s all good.”

Evan watches Jared for a few more moments, “I don’t mind them asking me questions, it’s alright.”

“No, it’s just-” Jared pushes himself up, sending a glare towards his two other friends. “Yeah.”

“You’re the color of a strawberry right now,” Evan replies.

“Oh God.”

“No, no,” Evan rushes to correct himself. “But, I mean, in-in like a good way. It’s-you’re cute.” Jared almost chokes on his own saliva.

“What?”

“You’re cute,” Evan repeats, slowly, carefully, being sure to meet his friend’s eyes.

Jared’s smiling bigger than Evan’s ever before seen. “You-you’re not so bad yourself, Hansen.”

Zoe and Alana hoot and holler encouragement as the two boys smile, their hands linking together underneath the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed this! It's much longer than I intended, oops! Special thank you to everyone who's commented, I love you all so much!


	8. The Noteboook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I accidentally grabbed your notebook and I found a crap ton of gay writings/doodles and they’re amazing. Wait, are those combinations of our names all over the pages?” Jared/Evan. Submitted by anonymous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this prompt!

So Evan’s in a minor panic. It’s no big deal, really, nothing to worry about at all. He just cannot find his math notebook, and he’s already almost failing that class, because none of it makes any sense, and now he’s truly falling apart at the seams.

He stares at the small blue notebook in his hands, one that is most definitely not his own. Evan tries to take a deep breath, and, rather than allow the fear to overtake him, Evan decides to reexamine this foreign notebook himself. Obviously, he’s going to have to return it to the original owner, so he chooses to slowly leaf through the front pages, hoping to find a name.

There’s nothing.

On the title page, where the owner’s name is prompted, someone wrote, “101 Reasons why i’m the Most™ Homosexual.” Evan stares for a few moments, wondering vaguely what that even means.

Carefully, Evan continues to turn the pages. There is little information on the first few pages, which seem to act as a barrier for what’s ahead. Finally, by the tenth page, there is a drawing. It’s small, located only in the lower left corner, done in smudged pencil. Because it’s been erased so many times, redrawn and re-erased seemingly endlessly, Evan can’t quite make out what it is.

He continues onward, examining little doodles along the way. They are all surrounded in scrawling letters, reading “what to say to him?” and “i’m sorry i don’t know what to do. i never do, but neither do you, so maybe we’re ok?” These sketches mainly contain hands, fingertips between which a pencil rests. As he moves onward, the artist seems to become more daring, including the entire upper body of this person.

The subject seems hunched over, inwardly drawn, in a majority of the drawings, but there are some, some that stick out with their particularly spectacular detail and precision, that show a relaxed young man, his body moving as though in the middle of a laugh.

On one page, there is an entire form. The muse, Evan presumes, entirely. His head is turned away, partially hidden behind a raised hand, but Evan can see a blush, a smile, and crinkled eyes. The subject is drawn with such grace, such precision, such careful attentiveness. There is a longing behind every pencil stroke.

He continues flipping through the pages, until he reaches nearly the end of the book. There, words are writing haphazardly across the thick paper. However, these “words” appear to actually be a random assortment of letters. “Jaran. Jarvan. Jarevan. Jaredvan. Erad. Evrad. Evared. Evanman. Evleinman. Evaleinman. Hanman. Kleinsen. Hanklein. Jaren. Jansen.” The last one is written over and over again, followed by an extensive amount of exclamation points.

As he reads over the page, Evan’s mind suddenly clicks. He pushes away the conclusion, though, shaking his head roughly, deeming it impossible. Until, that is, he turns the page. And finds himself staring at none other than himself.

It’s Evan, most definitely. With his striped, multicolored shirt, his short, precise haircut, his downturned eyes. But this drawing, this creation, is multiple times more stunning than anything Evan’s ever seen in the mirror. He can barely recognize himself in the grinning, bright, eyes, the clearly drawn teeth. There is this glow, this stunning aura around the portrait, as though the subject is as engaging as the work itself.

Quickly, he closes the book, his mind racing. Now, he recognizes this blue notebook. He thinks of Jared, sitting across from him during study hall, leaning back in his chair and scribbling onto these pages. Jared, looking peaceful and content, with his brown hair so perfectly framing his face, with his flowing pencil, his thoughtful, adorable, beautiful, handsome expressions.

Evan always assumed he was writing notes for English, perhaps, never creating masterpieces.

The notebook, its pages, stay burned into his memory for the rest of the night.

The day morning, he slowly approaches Jared in the hallway. Suddenly, he notices a softness in Jared’s gaze that he’s never before acknowledged. His thoughts continue racing.

Jared leans against his locker, running a hand through his hand roughly. He clears his throat, shifting from foot to foot. “Hey, have you–by any chance–seen this blue notebook?” Jared asks tiredly. “I couldn’t find it after seventh, and you’re in my sixth period study hall, so?”

“Um…” Evan bites the inside of his lip, unsure to what he should admit. “Yeah, actually, I-I think I mistook it for my math notebook, and I might’ve-I’m sorry.” He bends down and rummages through his backpack, producing the thin notebook and offering it to Jared, who rips it out of his hands immediately, a look of horror across his face.

“Shit. Shit, fuck, Evan, did you-” He searches Evan’s eyes, clutching the book tight to his chest.

Evan swallows. “You’re a really good artist, Jared.”

For a split second, Jared’s face brightens, a flicker of a smile appearing, before falling completely. “Um, how much…how much did you see?”

Evan blinks slowly. “All of it.”

Jared’s entire body slacks, and he shakes his head roughly, “I-it was all…” Jared deflates even further. “Fuck,” he whispers, “I get it if you, like, want to never see me again or whatever, like.

“No, no, no,” Evan hurries to explain himself, “I thought-I saw them all, and I thought…” He takes a step towards Jared. “My only thought what that they were the most amazing things I’d ever seen.” Jared stares at him with wide eyes and a shocked expression. “I didn’t even know you could draw, so… They’re really, really amazing, and I-I think…” Evan blinks slowly. “No one’s ever drawn me before.”

Jared opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again. “You’re the only thing I draw, Hansen.” Their gaze meets, and Jared’s posture relaxes. “So, you don’t hate me.”

“No, no, not at all. It’s kinda the sweetest thing…ever?” Evan smiles, “I never knew that you…”

“I do. I always have.” Jared nods quickly, and the air around them is warm.

Evan smiles, “Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and I'd love to hear any and all thoughts below!!!


	9. My T-Shirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I forgot my gym shirt and no one is letting me borrow theirs so can I have yours, even though it’s several sizes too large? Thanks, but you can stop telling me I look really cute in your clothing because I can’t stop blushing.” AU Zoe/Alana pretty pls?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> submitted by anonymous. also, I love this prompt more than anything in this world.

Alana may or may not be panicking. It’s second period, and she’s here, in a gym class she really, really doesn’t want to be in, without her gym clothes. She took them home to wash them and must’ve forgotten to put the shirt back in her bag. She silently curses herself, ducking into the locker room, searching for anyone with an extra shirt. Nothing. Nobody.

She’s never forgotten her gym clothing in her entire life, and she’s definitely not going to mess up her perfect 5.0 because of _gym_ , of all things.

Then, Zoe Murphy walks into the room, looking perfect, as usual. She strides over to her locker, dropping her backpack on the ground and beginning to untie her shoes. Slowly, Alana approaches her, just as Zoe begins to strip off her shirt and change. Alana respectfully tries to keep her eyes pinned to the ground. Her cheeks begin to heat up anyway.

Alana takes a deep breath. “Hey, I was wondering if maybe you had an extra t-shrit, by any chance, because I happened to forget mine at home, which never, ever happens, but it did today, so I’m in need of one, and do you happen to have one, it’s fine if you don’t, just-yeah.”

Here’s the thing. Alana is amazing with words, as the head of the school’s--hell, the state’s--top debate team. Somehow, though, all of that knowledge and eloquence seems to vanish into thin air whenever she talks to Zoe Murphy.

But Zoe, amazing Zoe, just smiles and starts to dig through her backpack. “Yeah, yeah, I think I do. A-ha!” She pulls out a clean black t-shirt. “I always have an extra, just in case.”

Alana takes the shirt into her hands. “Thank you,” she murmurs, turning around to begin changing, trying not to think about the fact that Zoe’s _right there_ and is rummaging through her backpack again. She isn’t watching Alana, obviously, but she’s _there_ , and Alana’s already blushing, trying not to think about the fact that this is _Zoe’s shirt_ , has been on _Zoe_ , and is now on _her_.

The shirt is roughly seven sizes too big. Zoe and Alana are about the same size, but all of Zoe’s workout clothing is purposefully big. On Zoe, the large shirt looks artful, modern, and effortless. Alana, though, looks completely dwarfed.

Zoe turns around, sees her, and her face lights up. “Oh my God, you look adorable!”

“Um.” Alana decides to take that as a compliment, not as a ‘I see you as a little sister, even though you’re older than me’ remark. Also, Zoe’s smile is contagious. 

The sun and the stars have nothing on Zoe’s smile. 

“Thank you.”

The bell above them rings, signaling that they have about half a minute before their gym teacher will mark them late. Zoe grabs her wrist, pulling her out of the locker and through the halls, until they reach the gym class.

The entire time, Alana’s hand feels like it’s on fire.

They all warm up, running laps around the gym until the teacher decides to end their suffering. Zoe runs right next to her the entire time, the sides of their arms occasionally brushing, which is obviously an accident—or, is it?

Zoe continues to send her looks throughout the rest of class, and Alana tries to ignore the electric feeling that rushes through her body every time she notices Zoe’s eyes on her. She doesn’t succeed. 

About halfway through class, Zoe trots over to her, her eyes bright, “Have I told you that you look ridiculously cute in my clothing?”

Zoe has, in fact, told Alana this. Approximately eight times in the past twenty minutes, and every time, Alana’s cheeks heat up until they’re the temperature of the Sahara desert. “Yeah, you have.” Alana bites on her lips, trying to suppress a smile. “You can say it again, though.”

And then they’re both smiling, smiling so hard the rest of the class must think they’re maniacs. Zoe nudges her shoulder, and her voice is warm. “You look ridiculously cute in my clothing.”

“You look ridiculously cute every single day,” Alana responds, without really thinking. It’s the truth, though.

“We have a lot in common, then, because so do you.”

And now they’re flirting. They’re really flirting. _This is totally flirting_ , Alana thinks, and now they’re both blushing and smiling again.

Soon enough, class ends, and they both slowly move back to the locker room, their hands accidentally (on purpose) brushing against each other the entire time. Alana takes of the shirt, feeling its fabric brush through her fingertips. She begins to hand it back to Zoe, regretfully, because it really was nice while it lasted.

But Zoe shakes her head, “You can keep it.”

“Oh!”

“If you want.”

“I do.”

Zoe backpedals, her face falling. “It is just a ratty old shirt that’s way too big, so I get it if you don’t, I just-“

“No! No!” Alana clutches the shirt closer to her chest. “I do, I do. Thank you.”

Then, they’re back to smiling. Zoe nods, “It’s my pleasure.”

And maybe Alana begins wearing the shirt as often as possible. And maybe Zoe’s taken to leaving a t-shirt or two (or three) at Alana’s house whenever they have a sleepover. Zoe says that Alana is the most beautiful person she’s ever seen. It’s just what they do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! please comment below, and I'll love you forever! <3


	10. The Lockdown Drill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There is a lockdown drill that’s lasting a really long time so we’re stuck in a dark room crammed under a desk together. Wanna talk about our feelings now?” AU for jared/evan?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> submitted by anonymous

They’ve been hidden under this desk for about ten minutes now, and they’re both getting pretty hot, pressed up against each other. Jared feels like hot coals against Evan’s clammy skin.

The other kids have begun to whisper, wondering why the lockdown drill is lasting so long. They’re mandatory at least once a year, but usually only last about five minutes. Evan checks his watch again.

He and Jared are sitting across from each other, their backs pressed against each side of the desk, with their legs completely intertwined.

Jared sighs, “This is so lame.”

Evan nods slowly, “You’re not wrong.”

“I know.”

Evan swallows dryly, “So, how has...your week been?” It’s painfully awkward and stilted, but Jared, for once, doesn’t comment.

“Pretty chill, I think, nothing major. You?”

“Same.”

There’s a pause, a quiet that fills their small area. They’re off in the corner, separated from the rest of the class, hidden. Jared sighs, “I know that-” just as Evan begins, “Look, I-” Both of them stop talking simultaneously. Jared motions vaguely for Evan to continue.

Evan shakes his head, “You can go.”

“Okay, so… Here we are, underneath this desk, and…what happened last week-”

“It isn’t a big deal, I don’t-you don’t have to… Say anything about it.” Evan feels like this conversation would be much better suited for a time when they’re out in the open, with several feet of space between them, where it isn’t 90 degrees. Jared, apparently, does not.

“I don’t mind. Just, if you-” Jared sighs, looking down. “If you regret it, that’s-”

Evan shakes his head roughly, wildly, “No!” He glances around, lowering his voice quickly. “I don’t,” he whispers. “I don’t regret it.”

His mind fills with the image of Jared’s body against his, the feeling of Jared’s lips pressed to his, Jared’s hands in Evan’s hair, of that Wednesday evening, five days ago, when everything felt like it fell into place.

The image has stayed locked in Evan’s mind, relentlessly replaying for the last one hundred and sixty-eight hours.

“Oh.” Jared stares at him for a few moments, fidgeting with his glasses. “Oh,” he repeats.

Evan freezes, his eyes widening. “Do you regret it?”

“No, no, not at all. I don’t. I really don’t. I thought you did? If you don’t, though, that’s great. That’s great.” A smile is spreading across his face, and relief spreads through his body. “So do you want to, you know...”

“Oh! I-yes,” he nods to himself, his hands tensing. “Yes, I do.”

“Me, too.” Jared leans closer, and he’s so warm and lovely, and he looks at Evan like he’s the only thing in the world, the only real thing, the only true thing.

Evan’s hand finds its way to Jared’s, their fingers lightly intertwining, and he can’t stop smiling.

Jared grins, too, “So, I’ll see you Friday night, 8 o’clock, Hansen?”

Evan chuckles, his eyes bright, “You sure will, Kleinman.”

And suddenly the space under the desk seems a lot less cramped and a lot more cozy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love these boys so much! comment prompts/drabble ideas or thoughts below! <3


	11. Jazz Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Our teacher is really boring so I zoned out while accidentally staring at you. Now, instead of being mad you’re just making weirder and weirder poses until I realize what’s happening.” AU with Zoe and Evan pls!!!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> submitted by anonymous. for @do-you-ever-really-crash on tumblr (here's that evan/zoe fic i promised ages ago!!)

Evan has been staring at Zoe for some time. Not on purpose, or to be creepy or anything, just because Zoe _happens_ to sit at this perfect forty-five degree angle in front of Evan’s seat. He can see the entire side of her face just by looking straight forward, at the teacher, as any good student would do.

He tries to stare numbly ahead at the whiteboard, or even at the continually slow clock on the front wall, but sometimes his gaze strays while their teacher continues rambling about the products of sines and cosines.

Part of Evan really truly wishes that last year had been better, that he hadn’t panicked and had one too many breakdowns during class last year, forcing him to stay behind and retake it with juniors. Juniors like Zoe Murphy.

Zoe Murphy, who is the most beautiful person Evan’s has ever encountered–the most beautiful person Evan thinks he will ever encounter.

And, okay, so he’s still in shock that Zoe– _Zoe_ –is dating him, and has been for a few months now, and likes _him_ , and is also absurdly nice and funny and kind and inspiring and strong and-and Evan could easily talk for at least seven weeks about all of the amazing qualities Zoe has, but he really should be focusing on calculus right now.

Zoe is also immensely bored. She’s convinced that this teacher is as well. The entire class is half asleep. Except for the one, the only, Evan Hansen. He’s been staring at the back of Zoe’s head for roughly 10 minutes, she thinks, probably accidentally. Still, she’s bored enough to take advantage of this. They’re in the back of the room anyway, with a sleeping class and a distracted teacher.

First, she turns to the side, placing her hands in front of each other, her left thumb on her nose and her right thumb on her left pinky. She waggles her fingers back and forth, with no response. 

Then, she poses like a bird, flapping her arms up and down. The teacher doesn’t move, or notice, and neither does Evan. 

She has to up her game. 

Zoe stretches her arms out, posing like Superwoman.

She does every ridiculous pose that’s possible to do while seated, until, finally, she hears a quick gasp behind her. She whips around, still maintaining her current position (which is similar to that of Arnold Schwarzenegger in his prime, but with jazz hands). Evan’s sitting there, his hand over his mouth, trying to hold back a laugh.

She smiles and winks at him, which results in even more giggling. Before she has too much time to enjoy Evan’s amused expression, the bell rings. Zoe goes to gather her things, waiting while Evan does the same.

He coughs. “Um, I wasn’t-I didn’t mean to be…staring at you, it was just…”

Zoe shakes her head, moving towards him, tracing her fingers up his arm, “No, that class it actually the most boring thing I’ve ever experienced, I zone out all the time, too, don’t worry.”

“Oh, okay. Thank you.” And he meets her eyes, then, and she’s suddenly struck with the fact that they’re green. She’s never truly realized that before, somehow.

She’s always enjoyed being around Evan, enjoyed his presence, his…everything. Whenever she talks to him for more than a few minutes, he seems to completely bloom, emerging from his shell. She thinks he’s beautiful, in his own way, with a bright smile and this softness, a softness that’s covered in this hard outer casing, which amazingly melts away whenever she’s around.

He’s funny, too, probably one of the funniest people she’s ever met.

She wishes more people could see him, could see the real him.

He glances up at her again. “Your jazz hands are very impressive.”

“Oh! Thank you, I’ve been working on them for some years now, but I think I’ve finally mastered the art of perfect jazz hands.” She’s smiling, and then he is too.

“I wonder if there’s a World Record for best jazz hands.”

“I should contact Guinness.”

“You should.” The tension is leaking from Evan’s shoulders as he relaxes into her presence. “They could even come to the school, and obviously, that’d give you so many popularity points.”

“So many,” Zoe adds. “I mean, everyone loves jazz hands.”

Evan grabs his bag from the floor, slinging it over his shoulders as they both begin to exit the classroom. “I love jazz hands. Well, not all jazz hands, but…”

Zoe’s face lights up, recalling their first real conversation. “But definitely my jazz hand jazz hands.”

“Of course. All day, every day.” He’s smiling more than she’s ever seen, she thinks. His chin is lifted, too, and Zoe thinks about all the growth he’s had–all the growth they’ve had.

She nudges him lightly as she slides her hand into his. She moves up on the tips of her toes, kissing him chastely, briefly. He squeezes her hand softly, his eyes warm, and they begin to walk to their lockers, hand-in-hand and smiles on their lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading! if you comment below, i'll love you forever and ever !! <3333 also, feel free to submit prompts!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and feel free to submit more prompts or ideas to me at any time! I'm on Tumblr [@neglectedrainbow](http://neglectedrainbow.tumblr.com/)!


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